Moonlit Walks
by EvilChani
Summary: Set in “The Shadow Rising”. We know from a section in Chapter 9 that Lan and Nynaeve were spending all their free time together. They took moonlit walks and Nynaeve even cooked for him, but we saw none of it. Here's my version of what we missed...
1. Reunited

**_Reunited_**

**_Chapter 1 of "Moonlit Walks"_**

**_By Chani_**

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**_To Morgan, ask and you shall receive. ;-)_**

**_Setting_**: Set in "The Shadow Rising". From Chapter 9, "Decisions": "...Nynaeve, seeming to feel the rush of time as keenly as Egwene, gave her free moments over to moonlit walks on the battlements with Lan and to preparing foods the Warder liked with her own hands, not to mention curses that sometimes drove the cooks from the kitchen; Nynaeve did not know very much about cooking."

**_D_****_escription_**: We got to see the results of their romantic, moonlit walks (i.e., him kissing her senseless in front of Elayne and Egwene), but we didn't get to see the buildup. I felt cheated, so I came up with this.

**_A/N:_** This story will take place over the course of seven days. I'm not certain how long they were all at the Stone of Tear, but I assume it had to be at least a few days. Otherwise, how would Nynaeve have had time to have moonlit walks and cook for Lan, as well as interrogate Amico and Joiya?

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Nynaeve rushed through the deserted halls of the Stone, desperate to get outside. She needed fresh air, but more than that, she needed to get away from Egwene and Elayne. There was nothing in particular they had done to annoy her; she was simply in need of her own space. Granted, they had only been there for one night, but every now and then, she needed to be alone. Usually when she had _that_ man on her mind…or, like tonight, when she started thinking about what she walked away from when she walked through that archway in Tar Valon. "I should have stayed there," she muttered to herself, just as she rounded a corner and ran into what felt like a stone wall.

She staggered backwards, and had it not been for the two strong hands that gripped her shoulders firmly, she had no doubt she would have landed quite unceremoniously on her backside. Her brain rattled in her head from the impact, but not enough to dull her senses. As soon as she felt those big, strong hands on her, she knew the stone wall she ran into was actually Lan.

"Are you all right, Nynaeve?" His concerned tone made her want to cry. Or kick him; she was not really sure which she wanted to do more at the moment. "You were practically running. It must have hurt."

It was apparently too much to ask that _he_ was affected by the collision. She held her chin high, but refused to look at his face. "I'm fine." Why did he not remove his hands from her shoulders? "I'm in a bit of a hurry, though." Trying to shake his grasp was pointless. _Light, but he's strong!_

"At this hour?" he asked. "Where are you going?"

The nosy man was doing his best to move his face into her field of vision, and avoiding looking at him took too much of an effort, so she stared at his chin. _He has such a strong chin._ That thought made her lips curl into an ill-tempered frown…she did not need to be thinking about such things right now! "Not that it's any of your business, Lan Mandragoran, but I'm going for a walk. Alone." There, that would put him in his place!

"Outside?" Her curt nod seemed to agitate him. "No, you aren't." He was still trying to catch her gaze with his, and she was making herself dizzy trying to avoid it. "I will go with you."

"What?" Anger swelled in her, and though she finally looked into his eyes, she quickly looked away. She missed him so much it hurt. All she wanted to do was throw herself in his arms and—but she could not. "Why? So you can protect me? Or so you can remind me that you don't want me? Just leave me—"

"Neither!" His voice echoed through the hall, and the few people milling about rushed to get away from him. "And I never said…" His eyes drifted to her neck and he trailed off. She knew what had caught his eye, and he proved her right a moment later when he released her shoulders so he could slip two fingers under the cord around her neck. His rough fingers slid across her collarbone to lift the other side of the cord. The simple touch caused her to inhale sharply. She should have stopped him, she knew. Instead, she stood there while he tugged his ring free from where it was nestled between her breasts.

His eyes widened slightly and he gripped the ring between a thumb and forefinger. His thumb stroked the ring twice before his gaze drifted back to hers. He looked sad. Conflicted. In the span of a few moments, one emotion faded to another, until it seemed he had experienced every emotion known to man. It was determination, however, that settled on his face. "If you wish it, I will say nothing, but I _am_ going with you. It is late, and this place is not safe."

When she reached for the ring, her hand brushed his and tingled from the contact. The urge to grasp his hand, to hold onto him for dear life, was stronger than her need to breathe, but instead of giving in to that desire, she took the ring out of his hand so she could put it back where it belonged. Lan watched her intently as she did it; the shaky breath he took made the corners of her lips turn up slightly. He looked as if he _envied_ the ring. Perhaps all was not lost after all. Perhaps she had simply been handling him wrong.

"You may escort me, if you wish." Yes, she had handled him wrong, that was the problem. It had to be. _Lan__ is intelligent, but he's still a man._ She smiled warmly up at him. "Though, if my walking alone at night bothers you so much, you may as well accompany me _every_ night, so long as we both are here."

His mouth twisted in wry amusement, though he had the decency to try to hide it. "This is something you intend to do every night?" Her nod clearly amused him even more. "Then I will escort you." Turning, he held his arm out to her.

They had only taken a few steps when she stopped and turned slightly toward him. "Lan? I do not wish you to remain silent during our walks." She paused, for effect more than any other reason. "But there is one subject I want you to promise not to bring up." She knew she needn't explain it further, and if he had a lick of sense, he would heed her warning. If he dared to start listing the reasons they could not be together, she was not entirely certain she could control her temper.

"I know what subject you are referring to," he told her dryly. "And I will promise what you want…if _you_ promise not to take one of these nighttime strolls without me." She agreed without hesitation, and when she saw the slight smile it brought to Lan's lips, she smiled back.

When they first began their walk, they remained silent. It was a comfortable silence, though, somehow both intimate and soothing. The battlements were truly beautiful, especially at night. The light from the moon lit their path as they wandered off into a more secluded area of fortress. After a short while, Lan began telling her what he knew of the Stone of Tear, as well as the city itself. He stopped, leaning against a tree and somehow her hand found its way into his. Warmth flooded her, spreading up her arm through her body. That such simple contact could have such a strong effect on her was disturbing. Yet, at that moment, she did not care.

They continued their walk and the discussion shifted to more personal things. Favorite colors, favorite foods…anything she could possibly learn about him, while keeping the mood light, she did. For the first time since she had met him, he actually seemed relaxed. And he smiled more than she had ever believed possible. His deep blue eyes, normally so cold and emotionless, seemed to show a spark of life. Warmth. She could have basked in that warmth forever.

She was so focused on him that she lost track of time. It wasn't until they neared her doorway that she realized they were back inside and their walk was over. That fact saddened her, though she made an effort not to show it.

When they stopped in front of her door, Lan took both of her hands into his and met her gaze. "You should have stayed where?" he asked softly,

Nynaeve stared at him blankly. "What?"

"When you ran into me, I heard you saying you should have stayed _there_." His expression grew serious, but the tender look in his eyes was enough to make her weak in the knees. "Where is _there_? The Two Rivers?"

She pulled one of her hands free from his to give her braid a hard tug. This was _not_ something she could discuss with him! "No. Not there. It was…" Her gaze dropped momentarily. "It wasn't real."

"Nynaeve…" His concern was more intense than before. "What…?"

Looking back into his eyes, she smiled, even if it was a bit half-hearted. "It doesn't matter." Really, it didn't. The life she had in the arch was an illusion—the thing she desired most, but still an illusion. But this—what she had with the man standing in front of her—was real. Often painful, but real. She could touch him, hold him, and know it was not only a dream. Better to fight for something real than be given something that might not be what it appeared.

Lan nodded, and for a moment, she thought he meant to kiss her, but instead he asked, "Same time tomorrow?"

"A little earlier, I think." Her heart raced in her chest. Being this close to him, looking into those blue eyes…almost made her forget about her new way of handling him. She had to be stern, and not give him any chance to argue. That was the only way to deal with him.

"Earlier, then. I will come for you." With an soft smile that made her heart skip a beat, he gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it. "Good night, Nynaeve."

"Good night, Lan," she told him, her voice barely above a whisper. He did not walk away until she opened the door, but even then she noticed him looking back at her. With a small sigh, she went inside, sharing one last glance with him.

As far as she was concerned, tomorrow could not come soon enough.


	2. Spark to a Flame

**_Spark to a Flame_**

**_Chapter 2 of "Moonlit Walks"_**

**_By Chani_**

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**_D_****_isclaimer:_** All this belongs to Robert Jordan, of course…I'm just borrowing it.

I am, however, taking some liberties with Lan's favorite foods here since the only thing we know for certain he likes is coin peppers. I did some investigating to find out the various foods each culture eats, then came up with a few ideas. If you want to see a page that details each culture's foods (what we know from the books, at least), you can visit http/www.wheeloftime.se/rotv/library.php?article21. It's a very cool site. ;-)

**_A/N:_** Yes, I know Nynaeve is using some foul language in this one, but the quote from the book implies she curses quite a bit when she's cooking. See Chapter 1 of this story for the quote. ;-)

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"Blood and bloody ashes!" Nynaeve growled, shoving her burned finger in her mouth. For good measure, she kicked the wall behind her, not really caring who saw it. Wrapping some cloth around her hands, she lifted the pan in front of her and set it aside so it would cool. At least she finished one dish, even if it was dessert. Of course, the pie was probably the easiest thing she was making tonight. Now if she could just finish dinner without burning herself again.

"I'd like to know what goat kisser invented this flaming meal," she muttered to herself as she hurried around the kitchen, glaring at anyone who didn't immediately move out of her way. Thankfully, the kitchen seemed less crowded than it had been when she started. She heard a couple of the cooks and kitchen hands complaining about being unable to take it any more. Take what? The heat? What did they expect? All kitchens stayed hot.

She paused to stir the pot of soup, but the boiling liquid splashed up on her hand. Squealing from the sting, she let out a string of curses she would deny ever having known. All this pain and aggravation just so Lan could have his favorite meal, with his favorite dessert. _It's worth it, though,_ she told herself. Two nights earlier, she and Lan had declared a truce of sorts, and had begun taking nightly walks together. Long walks, with short stops, and sometimes not so short, along the way. They laughed, talked, and shared stories until they were ready to fall asleep where they stood. He was being so perfect, so sweet, that she insisted on doing something special for him—making his dinner with her own two hands.

Her thoughts drifted to the night before, when they had parted. He seemed hesitant, which was not something anyone was used to seeing from Lan Mandragoran. She knew what had caused it, though. She felt it. Regardless, it surprised her. He hadn't wanted to end their night any more than she had, and when he reached out to briefly…tenderly…touch her cheek, even _he_ seemed surprised. It was as though she was awakening something in him, something that had died long ago. Or maybe he had just kept it locked away for none to see, she wasn't sure. All she did know was that she wanted to see more of it. She wanted to see him smile…to hear him laugh. To see those emotionless icy blue eyes fill with warmth.

Forcing herself from her reverie, she set herself to cutting vegetables; at least she could not burn herself doing that. "Bloody man couldn't just eat stew like everyone else. No, he has to eat this food that took me all day to find and even longer to cook!" She slammed the knife into the dark red pepper, wincing when the juice of it seeped onto her burns. Light, the thing even _smelled_ hot! "Son of a—" She cut off abruptly when her eyes locked on the pot of soup, which had begun to boil over. She hurried to it, the knife still in her hand, and yanked it off the fire.

Somehow—she was not sure how exactly—she managed to set the pot down without splashing more of the boiling liquid on her, but the knife slipped and she wound up slicing her left hand with it, right between her thumb and forefinger. She gasped and the knife bounced onto the floor as another curse formed on her lips, though Lan's voice stopped her before she ever started. "Nynaeve!"

She turned to face him, covering her wound with her other hand. She could not help wincing when he tried to move her burned hand out of the way so he could see the cut on her other hand. How long had he been there? "What have you done to yourself? Come on, we'll find Moiraine so she can Heal you and—"

"No!" She forced her irritation down. Did the man not realize how she felt about Moiraine? She'd as soon bleed to death as let that woman Heal her! "It's just a cut and a couple of burns." When she looked down at her hand, she nearly grimaced. There was blood everywhere…there was no way he'd ever buy that it was just a minor flesh wound.

Sighing, he grabbed one of the dish cloths and wrapped it around her hand. "You need to have this Healed, Nynaeve. It's—"

"I have some healall ointment," she interrupted. She moved to get it, but he just lifted her and gently set her on a stool.

"Stay there." He grabbed the ointment off the counter—how had he known where it was?—and started fussing over her as if she were dying instead of having a lousy cut. After he squirted an obscene amount of ointment on the cut, he ripped a clean cloth and used a section of it to tie around her hand so it was covered.

Figuring he was done, she started to hop down from the stool, only to have him hold her there and give her an exasperated look. He was beginning to annoy her. Badly. "Lan, I have to—"

"Just wait," he told her calmly, proceeding to put ointment on every single red spot he saw. Unable to stop herself, she impatiently huffed and rolled her eyes. He merely ignored her and continued to do as he saw fit. "I still wish you'd let me get an Aes Sedai to Heal you." For once, he had enough sense not to mention Moiraine.

She jumped off the stool, hurrying across the kitchen before he could stop her. "The ointment works well, and it will keep me from scarring. Besides, the beef should be done."

He held a hand up to stop her. "Let me get it." There was no arguing with the man, so she went back to the vegetables when he went to remove the beef from the fire. Her irritation was forgotten when she saw him smile at the strange encrusted beef dish. The thought of what was inside—goat liver paste—was enough to make her retch, but it seemed to make him happy so that was good enough for her. "My favorite."

"I told you I was making dinner for you." Why did he think she had been so insistent on him describing his favorite dishes? For her health? Shaking her head, she went back to slicing the peppers.

"I didn't realize you were going to all this trouble, though."

Her cheeks suddenly felt very hot. "It's not any trouble."

He made a noise that sounded dangerously close to a chuckle, though she didn't turn to verify it. "You seemed rather…irritated…before you cut yourself."

That was enough to make her stop what she was doing. Turning toward him, she felt her eyes narrowing. She was really more embarrassed than angry, not that she'd admit it to him. "How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough." This time he didn't bother hiding his chuckle. "If Rand heard even half of what you said…" Again, he laughed. "He told me you used to warm his bottom for a lot less."

Her hand was around her braid in an instant so she could give it a good tug. It didn't even occur to her that she now had the juice from the peppers in her hair. "Don't you dare tell him, Lan Mandragoran! I would never have a moment's peace again!"

"Your secret is safe with me."

With a loud harrumph, she turned back to what she was doing. There was still much to do, and she had to figure out how to package the food so they could eat on the battlements rather than inside. At first, she tried to shoo him from the kitchen, but he all but refused to leave. His determination to keep her company while she finished preparing their meal brought a smile to her face, one that quickly disappeared when he tried to insist on helping her. She snapped at him then, informing him that he wasn't to lift a finger. She had promised to make a meal for him, not to help him make a meal for himself, so she would do it alone. And that was that. Oddly, he seemed vaguely amused by her declaration.

Amused or not, he took a seat out of the way and watched her finish their meal, sometimes filling the comfortable silence with tales of his life. He seemed reluctant to discuss his fight against the Shadow, but he was more than willing to share what few fond memories he had of growing up in Fal Moran. She could have listened to him talk all night. Every night.

When she finally finished making everything, they packed it all up and headed for a nice, private spot under a large oak tree that they had found on their walks. It didn't take long to spread a blanket on the ground and set the food out. Not wanting to let the food get cold, they started eating right away. After spending half the day in the kitchen, Nynaeve was more than a little hungry.

"Did I do it right?" she asked when he had taken a bite of the crusted beef. It tasted fine to her—surprisingly—but she was not sure how it was _supposed_ to taste. For that matter, she had never had any of the dishes she prepared, with the exception of the vegetables, which she had cut into bite-sized pieces. The cool sauce for dipping was a bit strange tasting, though. Tangy and sweet at the same time.

"It's wonderful, Nynaeve." His voice was as soft as a caress, as was his gaze. Basking in sunlight could not have made her feel warmer. And, given the way he was eating, he must have liked it. Either that or he was starving to death.

Still, the food was filling so it did not take long before both of them were pushing their plates away. "I think I ate too much," she muttered, fighting a frown at the tight feeling in the pit of her stomach.

He laughed at her expression and got up, holding his hand out to her. "Perhaps a walk will settle our stomachs." His statement made her scowl deepen. Had he eaten too much as well? Why else would his stomach be unsettled?

Shrugging, she placed her hand in his and let him pull her up. She expected him to offer his arm to her once she was on her feet, but instead, he kept a firm hold on her hand. She was not about to complain.

After walking a short distance, he stopped to give her a concerned look, then held up her hand. "Does your cut hurt? I should not—"

"It doesn't hurt, Lan. Really." For all she cared, her hand could have been skinned completely; there was no way she would let him use a tiny cut as an excuse to stop holding her hand! He looked like he needed more convincing, however, so she held her other hand up for him to inspect. "See? The burns are almost completely gone. By tomorrow, you won't even be able to tell I had burns or a cut."

He took the hand she held up, and kissed the back of it tenderly, his eyes locking on hers. It seemed to her he had something to say, though he was obviously struggling with it. For several moments, he simply looked into her eyes, holding both of her hands in his.

She squeezed his hands softly, and gave him a worried look. "What's wrong, Lan?"

The conflict left his expression, giving way to warmth. "Nothing," he answered, pulling her into his arms. "Nothing at all."

Acting on instinct, she snuggled closer to him, her arms encircling his waist. Her head dropped to his chest and she closed her eyes with a small sigh. Being in his arms felt like a dream—a dream from which she did not want to wake. It was like going home after a long absence. Peaceful, calming. But at the same time, heady.

They stayed that way for quite a while, silently holding each other while Lan gently stroked her hair, until Lan finally broke the silence. "Thank you for dinner," he whispered, shifting slightly. She could have sworn he kissed the top of her head!

"You're welcome." If this was the reaction he had to her cooking dinner, she would make a habit of it.

His arms tightened around her for a moment, then he put his hands on her waist—they were so large, they covered her ribcage as well!—and pushed her away. "If we plan on walking any more tonight, we should probably go have some of that pie you made and pack everything up."

Hand in hand, they returned to the blanket and shared a slice of the blueberry pie. Shoulders and knees almost touching, they sat by the bole of the huge oak, partly facing each other. Something about being this close to him made her feel self-conscious, or maybe it was the way he was eyeing her. It reminded her, vaguely, of the way a wolf eyed its prey.

Lan set the empty plate aside and leaned back against the tree, stretching his long muscular legs out in front of him. She shifted to face him, only to find herself leaning against him, his arms wrapped firmly around her waist. Without even thinking about it, she covered his hands with her own then mindlessly began running the tips of her fingers up and down his arm. She had no desire to move, and apparently he didn't either because there was no more mention of a walk, and by the time they found themselves standing in front of her door, it was nearly dawn.

"You look exhausted, Nynaeve."

She shook her head, fully intent on telling him he didn't know what he was talking about only to find herself stifling a yawn. The man actually had the gall to laugh at her! Before she could yell at him about it, however, he pulled her into another embrace.

"Thank you for making me dinner," he told her, stroking her back lightly. "I truly do appreciate it."

She said nothing at first, deciding to just enjoy being in his arms. "Lan?" Her voice was partially muffled by his chest, but she knew he heard her. "What's your second favorite meal?"

He laughed loudly, a deep rumbling sound that started low in his chest and worked its way up, then reached behind her to open her door. Loosening his hold on her, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Good night, Nynaeve."

She wanted to point out that she really wanted an answer, but he gently pushed her inside and started to pull the door closed. She grabbed it at the last second, sticking her head around it to look at him. "Tomorrow?" She did _not_ mean to squeak. "I mean—"

"I will come get your for our walk." He looked at her as if he were considering something. "Unless you'd like to have dinner with me."

"Yes," she said, nodding a bit too vehemently. She blushed furiously. "I would like that."

"I'll be by before dinner, then." With an amused smile and a slight bow, he disappeared down the hallway.

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Thanks again to Neela for being my beta! She does such an awesome job! 


	3. Fanning the Flames

_**Fanning the Flames**_

_**Chapter 3 of 'Moonlit Walks'**_

**_By Chani_**

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**_A/N:_**_ Thanks so much to everyone who's been reviewing this! All the 'aw's have been making me want to write more! BTW, this is day 4 of 7…there will be one or two more chapters. I have yet to make up my mind about it. ;-) And thanks again to Neela for being such a wonderful beta reader!_

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Lan glanced down at Nynaeve with amazement as they walked and she told him of the adventures that had brought her to the Stone of Tear. He knew full well she was leaving a good bit out. She skimmed over any parts that hinted of danger to herself, as well as her own heroism, and, in a way, he was thankful. The thought of her being in danger was enough to send him into a rage that would force him to hunt down anyone who even _thought_ to harm her.

He turned his gaze away, forcing down the affection he felt toward her. He had no right, no right at all, to take up so much of her time, much less her affections. This time he was spending with her was more than he could have hoped for. Hope was something he had never known; his life was dedicated to fighting the Shadow and in doing so, the only guarantee he had was death. Some called him Aan'Allein…a man alone. Even given his bond to Moiraine, it was true. Until he met the woman at his side. Or more accurately, the woman wrapped around his arm with her hand in his.

That thought brought a smile; Nynaeve was nothing if not persistent. He had heard someone—Mat, perhaps—call her a bully, but it was much too simple a word to describe her. A force of nature would have been more appropriate. She was a strong woman with equally strong emotions who never gave up, even if common sense told her she had lost. She would never hide behind a meek mask to please anyone, and only a man who had strength to match hers would be able to love her. To spend his life with her. Unfortunately, that man could not be him.

Rubbing his head, he held back a sigh. Conflict spread in his mind like bile. He had agreed to these nightly walks as a way to keep a protective eye on Nynaeve and keep her out of trouble, for a change. He even convinced himself that he could do it while maintaining his distance from her. _You know better than to lie to yourself._

It had been a lie from the start, he realized, though it was only last night that he admitted the lie to himself. He was touched that she had wanted to make dinner for him—and a bit amused—and that was before he saw how much trouble she went through to make sure everything was just the way he liked it. She truly surprised him, more than she would ever know.

Seeing her in that kitchen, cursing like a drunken fisher's wife, her delicate hands covered in burns as she did her best to make all his favorite foods…she was so determined, for no other reason than to please him. It had warmed his heart. No matter how much he tried to convince himself it did not.

Fighting his attraction to her grew more difficult with each passing moment. The night before, standing in front of her door, he had wanted nothing more than to pull her against him and kiss her until he felt her melt in his arms. Instead, he had stopped himself with a brief kiss on her cheek. Even that was a mistake—he knew so when he did it—but his intention to correct it disappeared when he heard himself asking her to dine with him again.

Earlier, when he had gone to her room to fetch her for dinner, the sight of her had taken his breath away. The green silk dress she had chosen was cut so low that he found it difficult to bring his gaze up from her ample bosom, yet when he did, he was greeted by the pleased smirk on her beautiful face. Though she said nothing to confirm his suspicion, he thought she seemed to enjoy the idea of flustering him, and for his part, he did not mind returning the favor.

So, after they had grabbed two plates from the kitchen, he had led her to a quiet room to eat. There, he had allowed himself to focus completely on Nynaeve. He had complimented her time and again, encouraging her to tell him every story she had to tell. From her first memory to the day he and Moiraine had arrived in the Two Rivers, he wanted to hear it all. He wanted to _know_ her, what drove her, what inspired her. All of it. The other nights they had spent together had been about him; she had gently pushed and prodded until she had gotten him to tell her almost all there was to know about him. Some things he had never intended to share. But tonight, tonight was about her.

The attention had clearly unnerved her—more than once he had seen a hint of crimson sneak its way onto her cheeks as she told him stories of her childhood—but at the same time she seemed to revel in it. Every smile, every laugh, and every sigh he elicited from her only made him want more. It was heady, this warmth she so easily awakened in him. It was as exhilarating as any battle he had fought in, though in a much different way. Though the food itself had been unremarkable, he knew it had been a dinner he would never forget.

But now, as he walked hand in hand with her through the deserted woods outside the Stone, guilt filled him. She deserved better than this, better than a man with no home and nothing to his name but a claim to a throne that no longer existed. Dinner, these walks together, this…closeness…between them, it had to stop.

His free hand clenched into a fist at his side. He could not, _would_ not, end his war against the Shadow. If he gave into these feelings he had for her—no, he would not allow himself to feel for her. He would die fighting that which had stolen his life, and he would not put Nynaeve through the pain of loving a man who was destined to die sooner rather than later. She deserved better, and he would see that she got it. Whether she liked it or not.

"…not listening to a word I've said, Lan Mandragoran!" Nynaeve's voice held such an admonishing tone that he found himself fighting a smile, especially since, surprisingly enough, he knew every word she had uttered. His smile disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced with the same stony expression he usually wore. The thought of losing her tore him apart, but he could not show that weakness. That emotion.

Emotion. The word was a thorn in his mind. Before meeting Nynaeve, burying his emotions had been so easy. Now it seemed like a losing battle. Yet one more reason to set things right.

She stopped walking, though she stumbled forward a couple of steps before he noticed and stopped pulling her along with him. "What's wrong?" she asked softly. She was so beautiful, standing there in front of him, the look of concern in her eyes so intense that he thought she might throw herself in his arms just to make him feel better. Or maybe that was what he hoped.

No. Better to have it done with now than to wait until she started believing they had a future together. "We have to stop this, Nynaeve."

Her eyes narrowed, and suddenly the concern changed to suspicion. "Stop what?"

"This!" he answered, holding their entangled hands in front of her face. "These walks…dinner, it—"

"You asked _me_ to dinner tonight, remember?" Now she was angry. He wondered, briefly, how much longer it would be before she started yanking that braid of hers. "And now you decide—"

"Nynaeve, this is not right," he interrupted. Her jaw was set in that stubborn way he had come to know all too well. Her tenacity was one of the qualities he found endearing, but at the moment it frustrated him to no end. "We can not—"

"Don't you _dare_ say another word!" She snatched her hand away—or threw his, he was not really certain—and glared at him. Those brown eyes darkened, looking very much like two black clouds. Yes, she was definitely a force of nature; thunderstorms had nothing on Nynaeve al'Meara. "You _promised_ you would not mention this to me when I agreed to allow you to accompany me on my nightly walks."

His eyes widened in disbelief. She agreed to _allow_ him to come with her? Despite the seriousness of the situation, he almost laughed. The way he remembered it, she practically blackmailed him into agreement, threatening to court danger by wandering around alone at night. There was no point in telling her that, however. She would be offended he saw it that way and most likely deny the truth of it. "But Nynaeve—"

"I don't want to hear it!" Her hands curled into fists, one of which sneaked up to grab her braid. He was surprised it took her that long to go for her braid, but she tugged it so hard that he almost winced. "You made me a promise, Lan Mandragoran, and if you intend to break it, you can just turn around and go right now!"

He stared at her, dumbfounded. How had she managed to turn this around on him? "And leave you out here alone?"

"Yes!" She crossed her arms under her breasts and raised her chin.

"I will not leave you here alone!" His voice thundered in his own ears. It took some effort to speak softer, though it was not much softer than before. "It's late. It's dark. And it's a long walk back to the stone."

The mocking smile on her face should have made him want to strangle her, not kiss her. "I would not care if I had to swim back in freezing water on the blackest, coldest night the world has ever known! If you can not keep your promise to me, you _will_ leave me here and go back to the Stone even if I have to use _saidar_ to _throw_ you back!" He opened his mouth to argue, but she didn't even pause to take a breath. "Furthermore, if you do not wish to walk with me after tonight, suit yourself, but do not think for one moment that you will be able to tell me what I can or can not do."

He glared threateningly at her. She seemed not to notice. The desire to kiss her was still there, second only to the desire to put her over his knee. Light, what was this woman doing to him? With a great deal of effort, he focused on their argument. "You would walk alone at night after you promised me you would not?" He knew it was the wrong thing to say even before her expression turned smug. His jaw tightened, causing his teeth to grind together. She _knew_ he wanted to keep her safe, and had no problem using it against him!

"And how would me breaking that promise be any different from you breaking yours?" She had won and she knew it. The woman was very close to grinning—triumphantly—at him.

_When we marry, she is in for a rude awakening._ His heart skipped a beat. Where had _that_ thought come from? She was really beginning to cause him to take leave of his senses!

"Well?" She planted her hands on her hips again and stared impatiently at him. "Do we continue or not?"

He only looked away from her for a moment, but when he met her gaze again he could have sworn he saw fear there. He knew he should tell her no, that this was over. He could always follow her on her walks without her knowing about it. His voice, however, did not cooperate. "We continue."

She nodded nonchalantly and began walking again, leaving him to chase after her. Sighing, he hurried after her, resisting the temptation to find a wall to beat his head in to. It only took three strides to catch up to her, though she didn't even spare him a glance once he had reached her side.

They walked for quite a while, not speaking or touching. She ignored the arm he offered, and made a point of keeping a fair distance from him. He should have been pleased that she was doing what he could not, but it irritated him. For someone who claimed not to bear ill will over past events, Nynaeve certainly did a good imitation of it.

By the time they were back inside, he realized he could not stand her silence—or coldness—any longer, so he said the only thing he could to help the situation. "I'm sorry, Nynaeve."

She looked at him for a moment before she murmured, "Just don't do it again."

"You have my word."

When he held his arm out this time, she slipped hers through it. He meant what he said; he would not broach the subject again. At least, he would not do it on their walks.

He slowed his pace when they neared her door; he was in no hurry to end their evening after wasting so much time arguing with her. Eventually, though, she would go back to Tar Valon and he would leave with Moiraine. Eventually, they would have to part. They both had to accept that.

"I have something to do tomorrow evening," she told him, drawing him from his thoughts. She seemed nervous. Even someone who did not know her well would have realized she was hiding something. Did she really believe she could fool him? "So I will probably miss dinner."

He nodded blandly. "If you tell me where you will be, I will come there for you."

"No," she said too quickly. "I'll meet you at my room. I just may be a little late."

She definitely did not want him to know what she was up to. "As you wish." He would find out, one way or another. They stopped at her door, turning to face each other.

"But I will make you dinner the next night." Her voice was soft. "We can eat outside again." There was no trace of anger in her eyes, and that knowledge soothed him. _She_ soothed him. Still, he did not miss the determined look that had found its way back to her face. Somehow he knew it had nothing to do with her cooking him dinner.

With a semblance of a smile, he lifted her hand to his lips. "I will see you tomorrow, then." He lingered there, holding her hand, basking in the warmth of her gaze. "I look forward to it." And, strangely enough, he really did.


	4. An Unseen Gift

**_An Unseen Gift_**

**_Chapter 4 of "Moonlit Walks"_**

**_By Chani

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_**

**_A/N:_** _Day 6 of 7…When they got this close to 'goodbye', I suspect feelings started to bubble to the surface. And yes, there is one more chapter coming. ;-)

* * *

_

The full moon lit the sky, its silvery light so bright it made the stars around it pale in comparison. A soft breeze cooled the air just short of causing a chill, and the only sound was the bristling leaves up above in the trees. It was truly a beautiful night, one Nynaeve wished would never end.

Her gaze drifted to Lan as he packed up what was left of dinner. He looked almost…happy. If not happy, then definitely pleased. It warmed her heart to see him that way; that she was the one to put him in such a mood only made it better. It amazed her something as simple as making him dinner with her own two hands could bring joy to the man. But al'Lan Mandragoran was not just any man. No, comparing him to other men was like comparing the sun to the tiny stars that helped light the night's sky. If only he could see that for himself.

A small sniff escaped her before she could stop it but when Lan gave her an inquisitive look, she forced a smile. Thankfully, he got back to work rather than questioning her. Had he asked she would have been glad to tell him what was on her mind, though. The man, no matter how wonderful, still had a tendency to behave like a Light-blinded fool. All that talk of him having nothing to give her but widow's weeds…what a load of sheep's swallop!

It was, in Nynaeve's opinion, all Moiraine's fault. Yes, that wretched woman had convinced Lan Mandragoran—a king!—he had no worth outside that of being her Warder. She encouraged his foolish quest to die fighting the Shadow. For _her_. In whatever way _she_ decided, as though she were some queen to be obeyed and Lan was nothing more than some mindless servant. The very thought made Nynaeve snarl. It was one thing to fight evil; it was quite another to go about it intending to die. Had Moiraine cared a whit about Lan, she would have put a stop to that nonsense. But no, she merely accepted it. Encouraged it. Encouraged him to put _her_ life above his own. It was utter selfishness on her part, something the Aes Sedai appeared to possess in abundance. All the woman cared about was herself and the White Tower, and did not mind sacrificing Lan or Rand or Mat or any of the other people Nynaeve loved to that cause. Burn Moiraine _and_ the tower!

Thoughts of Moiraine made Nynaeve tug her braid so hard it hurt. Never had she despised anyone as she despised Moiraine. Never had anyone given her as much reason to do so. Moiraine would pay, though. She would pay dearly. Not only for her treatment of Lan, but for dragging Nynaeve's people from Emond's Field into the middle of every danger the world had to offer. Nynaeve would see to it; once she had mastered the One Power, anyway. It was the only thing that drove her to suffer the indignities she would have to face to become an Aes Sedai. But she would never be one. No, she would never become a manipulative witch like Moiraine and her ilk. She would simply learn whatever she could as quickly as she could so she could use it to help Rand and the others survive this mess. And maybe she could find a way to save Lan from Moiraine's scheming as well. Her mouth twisted in disgust, making her look as though she had bitten into a piece of rotten fruit.

"I know that look," a deep voice rumbled, pulling her from her thoughts, "but this time I am certain I am not the one to cause it."

Nynaeve looked up at Lan, who was now towering above her and her expression immediately softened. "No, it's not you."

His stony expression never wavered, but the sparkle in his eyes gave away his amusement. The coldness normally there was gone, replaced by…was it warmth? "Care to tell me what or who caused it, then?" he asked, offering his hand to help her to her feet.

"No," she answered, smiling up at him. It amazed her how quickly he could soothe her. Regardless, she could not forget what she had to do. She had to protect everyone she cared for—from the Shadow, from the Aes Sedai, from everything!—whether they liked it or not. And that included Lan. "I will deal with the person soon enough." That was not exactly true, of course. The day Moiraine paid for her actions could not come soon enough to suit Nynaeve.

"I am certain you will," he responded, his hand tightening around hers as they began to walk. He did not question her further or insist she tell him the name of the person causing her unhappiness, though somehow she suspected he knew. The very mention of Moiraine's name made her angry enough to chew steel. He had quickly learned that, and taken great care to choose his words wisely when they were together.

Pushing thoughts of that woman out of her mind, Nynaeve concentrated on enjoying her time with the man at her side. That this was their last night together caused a large lump to form in her throat. She was _not_ ready to let him go. Truthfully, she never would be, though there was little she could do about it. The fact remained that he had pledged his life to Moiraine and the only way to change that was to find a way to get Moiraine to release him from the bond. But how could she convince the woman to do that? Moiraine clearly enjoyed the power she wielded over others, including Lan, so it would not be an easy task. Besides, why would any woman in her right mind simply give up Lan? She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to sigh. There just had to be a way. There had to be.

"What is bothering you, Nynaeve?"

Caught unaware, she looked up at Lan, who was now leaning against the outside wall of the battlement. Light, they had covered quite a distance! She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she had not even noticed.

A strong finger under her chin forced her attention back to the man in front of her. "Tell me what is bothering you," he prompted again, his blue eyes filled with concern.

She had the sudden urge to scream at him, to yell at the top of her lungs that he should have known what was bothering her. How could he not? He knew she was leaving tomorrow…he had learned of it the day before when he had chased her down to complain about her involvement in questioning Amico and Joiya. Light had he been irate when he learned that! He had gone on and on about how an Accepted had no business taking part in the questioning of Darkfriends, much less sisters of the Black Ajah. It had finally taken her telling him that it was Aes Sedai business, and therefore none of his concern, to stop his tirade. And, once she had pointed out that Moiraine knew of her involvement as well as supported it, his jaw had tightened and he had stomped away without another word. It had concerned her, truthfully. She did not like upsetting him, much less fighting with him. But, thankfully, by the time he had come to get her for their nightly walk he had been the picture of serenity. He had not mentioned the subject again, with the exception of a seemingly innocent question about how the interrogation had gone that day. He had not fooled her for a moment—it was much too obvious that he didn't like her involvement in the matter—but at least he accepted the fact he could not change the situation. He would have to learn to trust her abilities, though. For some reason, the man thought every little thing was a threat to her. As if she was not capable of taking care of herself. She quickly silenced thoughts of situations that confirmed his beliefs. Those times were rare. Very rare.

"Nynaeve?" Again his deep voice interrupted her thoughts, though she found she did not mind. His tone was so tender, so caring, that it warmed her heart. "Talk to me."

"I just…" She trailed off when she met his gaze again. The man in front of her bore little resemblance to the man who had practically yelled at her two nights prior. Whatever had gotten into him, causing him to suggest they stop spending time together, was now gone. Had she handled him differently, she knew they wouldn't even be together tonight and would have, instead, been avoiding each other because of his foolishness. Sometimes he really did need to be set straight. He just needed it less often than most men. If only they had more time, then maybe…

As though he knew exactly what she was thinking, he tugged her hands until she was wrapped tightly in his embrace. She had never known real peace until he held her, never known what it was like to surrender her true self until she had spent this time with him. This was where she belonged and the thought of leaving…of losing him…made her eyes burn. Clinging tightly to him she squeezed her eyes closed to keep the tears from falling, though one lone droplet found its way down her cheek.

A large hand stroked her back as his other arm constricted around her. It occurred to her, in that one brief moment, he was as reluctant to let her go as she was to leave him. That knowledge gave her strength. More importantly, it gave her hope. She would have to have enough for both of them, it seemed. If he would not fight for them, she would. One way or another, she would find a way to make this work.

Taking care not to move out of his arms, she lifted her face so she could look at him. He did his best to soften his features, but she would have had to have been blind to miss his clenched jaw and furrowed brow. As if having a will of their own, her hands moved to his face, her fingers dancing over his stony jaw before moving up to smooth the creases in his forehead. Light, how would she ever survive leaving him? "Promise me something," she whispered, pulling her lower lip between her teeth to stop it from trembling.

He nodded once, shifting his hands to rest on the curve of her hips. "Name it."

For a moment, she got lost in the feel of him…the caress of his breath on her face, the tingling of her skin where he touched her. It was too easy to forget herself when she was near him, too easy to behave like some lightskirt who couldn't control her own desires. But Nynaeve al'Meara was no lightskirt. "Promise you'll be careful, that you'll look after Rand." She paused, but found herself unable to draw a breath. "And yourself. I don't know when we'll…" _When we'll see each other again_, she finished silently, swallowing hard. "I just need to know you're safe. As safe as you can be."

Something in his eyes told her he was going to argue, to start his all too familiar speech about how they had no future. A battle was raging behind those blue eyes, though the only physical sign he gave of his turmoil was the way his fingers were digging into her flesh. He didn't seem to realize it, and though she knew there might be bruises she said nothing. Better to suffer a small amount of discomfort than to say something that might make him bolt away like a startled animal. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he nodded his assent. "It eases my mind to know you will be going back to the White Tower. At least you will be safe there."

Feigning a smile, Nynaeve moved back into his embrace. She hated leading him to believe she was going back to the Tower when she wasn't, but given how upset he had gotten over her questioning two Darkfriends she had no desire to tell him she would be hunting more of their kind with Elayne. The man would, undoubtedly, try to tell her not to go and that was simply not an option.

How long they stood there holding each other, she wasn't certain but all too soon they were in front of her door again, staring into each other's eyes. It was the worst part of the evenings she spent with him; having to say "good night" was too close to "goodbye" for her, especially tonight. But as she looked up at him, she knew even though she was leaving tomorrow, it would _not_ be goodbye. They would see each other again; more importantly, they would be together some day soon. If she had to fight Moiraine and every other Aes Sedai in the White Tower, then so be it. She and Lan belonged together and, ultimately, nothing would keep her from him.

"You have that look again," he told her, smiling. "Like you plan to walk through a wall and expect it to move out of your way."

"If the wall is smart, it will do as I wish." She sniffed primly, feeling more determined than ever. "If not, I will knock it down and force it to."

He threw his head back and laughed. It was such a pleasing sound, rich and full of life. If he had not been laughing _at_ her, she might have laughed as well, but she was serious. She _would_ have him, and nothing was going to stand in her way.

"I don't doubt you would do just that, Nynaeve." His eyes sparkled with amusement as his big hands moved to cradle her face. "There is little, if anything, you could not accomplish once you set your mind to it."

The comment brought a smile to her lips, though when his thumb began gently caressing her cheek the smile faded into a look of pure bliss. Her skin tingled from his touch, and her head began to swim. Being this close to him scrambled her wits, and he was moving even closer. His thumb stroked her lower lip, causing her to draw in a sharp breath. The Creator help her, her legs felt like they were made of water. The only thing that kept her from dropping into a puddle at his feet was the arm that he'd somehow slipped around her waist.

"You are an amazing woman, Nynaeve al'Meara." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his lips brushed over hers, sending a jolt through her body. _It was not enough to be called a kiss_, she thought. But when his mouth caught hers a moment later, it was definitely a kiss…a tender one that curled her toes. All rational thought disappeared. There was only Lan.

Though it was over much too quickly, it left her breathless. The worst part was he clearly knew the effect he had on her. The way he looked down at her, his eyes sparkling with self-satisfaction, should have made her want to push him away. There was no chance of that so instead she fought to catch her breath, to find her voice to tell him to stop being so full of himself, but when she opened her mouth, she blurted, "I love you." She blinked once, her eyes growing wide. Her words surprised her, but they also caused the smugness in Lan's eyes to disappear with an abruptness that almost frightened her. The shock she saw in his expression annoyed her, however. How could he not have known how she felt?

"Nynaeve," he began, his face twisting as though he were in pain. She half expected him to move away from her, but if anything his grip on her tightened. That gave her the courage she needed to stop him before he began the speech she had heard all too often.

Putting one finger over his lips was enough to stall him. "Don't, Lan. Don't tell me not to say it and don't start going on about why I should not feel this way. I feel what I feel and there's nothing you can do to change it." Her tone was firm, just as it had been two nights earlier when he started his nonsense. If she gave him half a chance he would ruin everything, and she would not give him that chance again. Never again. Setting her jaw stubbornly, she kept talking before he could interrupt. "When you gave me this ring"—she reached down and pulled the ring from the valley of her breasts then held it up to him—"you told me all I had to do was use it to send word and you'd be come to me. This ring keeps me connected to you, even when we're apart." She let out a short breath, dropping the heavy gold ring. "I have no ring to give you, no piece of jewelry that everyone will recognize as mine. All I can give you is my love and let you know that wherever you go, you can carry that with you. Through that, I'll always be with you." One corner of her mouth curled up. "I love you, Lan Mandragoran." There, it was easier to say the second time; at the very least, it had not killed her. "I always will. You have my heart. And if you ever need me, all you have to do is send word and I'll be there." She meant it, too. Even if she had to crawl on her hands and knees and battle her way across the land, she would go to him.

His features softened and his eyes filled with what she knew in her heart was love, but he was fighting it with every breath he drew. Until she found a way to free him from Moiraine, he would continue to fight. Perhaps even after. "Nynaeve, we can't—"

"Shh," she interrupted, shaking her head. No matter how much she wanted to melt into his arms and let him kiss her until she could no longer think—the very thought made her cheeks flush—she knew she had to keep her wits about her. Men would always take the upper hand and try to use it to push you around if you let them. "I'm not asking for anything from you. I just want you to know how I feel." Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. "I will see you tomorrow before I leave."

Amazingly, she was quick enough to escape his grasp and had entered her room and closed her door before he could say more than her name. But once inside she felt as though she had battled an army of Trollocs and barely escaped with her life. Leaning against the door, she sighed. This was not going to be easy. Nothing worth having was. She had no plan, though, no great inspiration about how to accomplish what needed to be done, yet there was one thing she knew as surely as she knew the sun would rise in the morning.

One way or another, one day soon, Lan Mandragoran would be her husband.


	5. Leaving the Fire Burning

_**Leaving the Fire Burning**_

_**Chapter 5 of "Moonlit Walks"**_

**_By Chani

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_**

_**Disclaimer**: The dialogue from both Lan and Nynaeve was taken directly from the book and, therefore, credit goes to RJ for that. He, however, chose to write the following scene from EgWeenie's point of view (spits) and I felt that, to have decent closure to this little Lan/Nynaeve miniseries, the scene should be done from one of their points of view instead. Hope you enjoy!

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Tanchico._

Lan stalked through the Stone of Tear, ignoring the people who scurried in various directions to avoid his path. There was only one thing on his mind at that moment, one person he wanted to see. This would be no pleasant visit, though. No, the woman had lied to him and she was going to hear exactly what he thought of it before he was finished! After all their talks, all their walks and dinners, all the time they spent together, she had lied! He still could not fathom it. She was not going back to the White Tower at all, and had he not overheard one of the servants discussing the carriage Nynaeve had ordered, he would never have known the truth. Well if she believed he would let her get away with such a betrayal, she was sorely mistaken.

He should have suspected it. In fact, it was all he could do to hold back a growl when he thought of how she had evaded discussing her plans. She had already tried that nonsense when he asked why she was questioning those women of the Black Ajah. Light, she was but an Accepted! She had no call to be that close to Darkfriends. It was simply too dangerous, something that should have been left for a full Aes Sedai. That Moiraine had approved of it—nay, encouraged it!—only infuriated him further. Of course, the older woman would not discuss the matter, claiming it was Aes Sedai business and none of his concern. In fact, she had seemed annoyed he had shown such concern for Nynaeve at all.

Had he not known better, he would have said she was jealous. Ever since they had left the Two Rivers, Moiraine had constantly goaded him, reminding him of his vows and obligations to her. Did she truly believe he had forgotten? Why she felt threatened over the time he spent with Nynaeve was beyond him. It was not as though this was the first time he spent time with other women. Over the years, he had even bedded women and Moiraine had never uttered a word. Then again, Nynaeve was not just any woman. She was not the type a man could bed and leave behind. Things with her would never go that far. It was not as though he expected anything to come of his time with her and Moiraine had to know that; on the contrary, he was well aware that they could never be together. Nynaeve deserved better than a man with nothing to his name. A man who would soon die doing his duty to fight the Shadow.

_Some women don't ask for land, or gold. Just the man. _

Words spoken so long ago. No, not that long ago. Even then he knew she meant them, just as he had meant what he told her in reply. She truly was a lioness, willing to give her heart…to give herself…to a man who had nothing but pain and death to give her in return. He would not let her do it. He would not allow her throw her life away for him.

_I love you, Lan Mandragoran._

It took every bit of his self control to suppress a shudder when he remembered her words from the night before. She loved him. That, he had known. Yet her declaration had stilled his heart. The corners of his lips curled slightly at the memory; the kiss had unnerved her so much she had given the words voice without a thought. He had not expected it, but he _had_ known. Light, he had known it from the first moment he laid eyes on her. And, too, he had known he would love her. He tried to resist, tried to pretend it did not exist, but with every moment he spent with her it threatened to boil, unbidden, out of him. Drown him in its warmth. Ah, but what a way to die. Drowning in Nynaeve's love rather than his own blood during a Trolloc battle.

No! This time a growl did escape him, a pained sound that sent a maid scurrying into the wall and her armful of laundry scattering on the floor. Lan never noticed. Fists clenched at his sides, he fought to maintain control of his emotions. Never had it been so difficult! Regardless of their feelings, though, it could never be. He would never be able to give her what she wanted. He had a war to fight, and he would die doing it. There was no future for him outside of that, no chance of living some romantic tale like was written in books. Only war and death.

_So why are you so angry with Nynaeve for lying to you_, a voice in the back of his head taunted, _if it will truly never be? _That thought made his jaw clench, though after a moment he had a reasonable explanation. He was angry because she was better than that! The woman was more direct than anyone he had ever met, and that was a trait he respected. For her to lie to him showed a lack of respect for herself, as well as for him. The main problem he had with it, however, was that she was going to Tanchico. That place was much too dangerous for her!

Finally he found himself at her door, which he flung wide and entered without pausing to knock. His eyes immediately settled on a very surprised Nynaeve. There were others there as well—Elayne and Egwene—but he gave them no notice. All he could see was the braided menace that had put him in this state of mind. Everything he had planned to say to her, however, disappeared at the sight of her. All that came out of his mouth was a raspy, "You let me believe you were returning to Tar Valon."

"You may have believed it," she replied calmly, "but I never said it."

The muscles in his jaw twitched. Her uncharacteristic coolness caused his blood to boil. Who did she think she was fooling? Nynaeve al'Meara was rarely calm! "Never said it? Never said it! You spoke of leaving today, and always linked your leaving with those Darkfriends being sent to Tar Valon. Always! What did you mean me to think?"

The question caused her eyes to fill with guilt, though she quickly recovered her composure. "But I never said—"

"Light, woman!" he roared, clenching his fists. "Do not bandy words with me!" For all the complaints she had about Aes Sedai, she certainly had no problem behaving as one! As though proving him right, she merely stood there staring at him with all the serenity of any Aes Sedai he had ever known. How dare she! How dare she remain so calm when he felt as if the world was crashing down on him! With her safety at stake!

He made a conscious effort to calm himself. It did not work. He did manage, however, to keep his expression as stony as ever. It was his singular advantage, one he would not lose. Not against her.

When he spoke again, his voice was even. "I'd not have known where you were off to if I had not heard that you had ordered a carriage. To take you to a ship bound for Tanchico. I do not know why the Amyrlin allowed you to leave the Tower in the first place, or why Moiraine involved you in questioning Black sisters, but you three are Accepted. Accepted, not Aes Sedai." He did not pause, but he was unable to stop his voice from rising. "Tanchico now is no place for anyone except a full Aes Sedai with a Warder to watch her back. I'll not let you go into that!"

"So," Nynaeve said lightly, her dark eyes sparkling with something he could not quite place, "You question Moiraine's decisions and those of the Amyrlin Seat as well. Perhaps I've misunderstood Warders all along. I thought you swore to accept and obey, among other things." Not her as well. It was bad enough Moiraine was continually reminding him of his position and vows, he did not need to hear this from Nynaeve! "Lan, I do understand your concern, and I am grateful—more than grateful—but we all have tasks to perform. We are going; you must resign yourself to the fact."

"Why? For the love of the Light, at least tell me why! Tanchico!" Hard as he tried, he could not keep the desperation out of his voice.

"If Moiraine has not told you," Nynaeve said gently, "perhaps she has her reasons. We must do our tasks, as you must do yours."

The words were a knife through his heart, twisting and turning, stabbing into his very soul. He was trembling, visibly, and the only thing that kept him from showing more emotion than that was his tightly clamped jaw. Conflict spread in his mind like bile. His feelings for her—yes, he did indeed care for her, more than he was willing to admit—warred with his duty to fight the Shadow. But instinct told him Nynaeve's purpose matched his own. And he could _not_ let her go there alone, he simply could not.

It took some effort to find his voice, and it sounded strained, even to him. "You will need someone to help you in Tanchico. Someone to keep a Taraboner street thief from slipping a knife into your back for your purse. Tanchico was that sort of city before the war began, and everything I've heard says it is worse now. I could…I could protect you, Nynaeve." Even as he said the words, he realized he would do anything to protect this woman. Anything.

Nynaeve gave no sign he had said anything out of the ordinary, but he could feel it from her; from where he stood, he could hear the pounding of her heart, so he knew when it skipped a beat. "Your place is with Moiraine."

"Moiraine." The name caused sweat to bead on his hard face, and he struggled to find the right words. He had a duty to Moiraine, true, but he felt a duty to Nynaeve as well. No, it was more than duty. Something stronger, something that could tear his world to shreds. Could he really walk away from the woman he had sworn to obey until the end of his days? A fist tightened around his heart, making it hard to breathe. Even harder to think. And the answer came to him then, clear as the very sun itself—if the only way he could keep Nynaeve alive, then he would find a way to go with her. Somehow. But how? The fist tightened and he felt a desperation that he had never before encountered, even in the direst of battles. He was standing on a precipice, ready to jump into an abyss just for the love of her. And through the bond, Moiraine could feel it. His jaw tightened; he knew what he must do, though he found trouble voicing it. "I can…I must…Nynaeve, I…I…"

"You will remain with Moiraine," Nynaeve said sharply, taking the choice from him, "until she releases you from your bond. You will do as I say." He blinked once. Until she releases him from his bond? What in the name of the Light was she talking about? Would Moiraine do that? Would she…no, he forced the thought away, distracted by the folded paper she was carefully pulling from her pouch. Without hesitation, she thrust it into his hands.

He frowned as he looked down to read it.

_What the bearer does is done at my order and by my authority. Obey, and keep silent, at my command._

_ Siuan Sanche_

_ Watcher of the Seals_

_Flame of Tar Valon_

_The Amyrlin Seat_

Blinking, he read it again. This was insanity. "But this allows you to do anything you please," he protested. "You can speak in the Amyrlin's name. Why would she give this to an Accepted?"

"Ask no questions I cannot answer," Nynaeve said, then added with a hint of a grin, "Just count yourself lucky I do not tell you to dance for me."

White hot anger surged in him, along with another emotion he could not quite name. The heat of them both nearly burned him alive. "Do you not? You dispose of me very neatly. My bond, and my oaths. This letter." The dangerous look he gave her went unnoticed as she took back the letter and replaced it in the-pouch on her belt.

"You are very full of yourself, al'Lan Mandragoran," she told him haughtily. "We do as we must, as you will."

The anger peaked, as did the other emotion he was trying to force down. "Full of myself, Nynaeve al'Meara? _I_ am full of myself?" There was no thought about what he did next; he merely acted on instinct, moving so quickly toward Nynaeve that she did not have time to react. Her jaw hung open as he swept her into his arms, covering her mouth with his to give her a very thorough kiss. He had kissed her before, after their walks, but he had been tender with her…reserved. Not so this time. This time he unleashed the full force of his passion for her—the anger, the frustration, and yes, the love—drowning her in it. Possessing her with it. She believed she was in complete control, yet as soon as the kiss began, they both knew better.

At first she fought him, kicking his shins and hammering him with her fists as she made sounds of frantic, furious protest, but her kicks slowed and stopped, and then she was holding on to his shoulders and not protesting at all. She melted against him, her body warm and pliant as she responded to the kiss with equal fervor. Her words from the night before echoed in his ears—_I love you, Lan Mandragoran_—and he deepened the kiss. Her reaction had him fighting to hold back a groan. Desire rose in him, stronger than he ever felt for any woman, so he tightened his arms around her even more. He had no desire to let her go. Not now. Truthfully, not ever.

That thought brought reality crashing down on him, and with great reluctance he finally set her down on her feet. She swayed a bit as she straightened her dress and patted her hair furiously. The indignant expression she was trying to muster contradicted the way she was still swooning from his kiss. Amused, he regarded her with a raised eyebrow. "You have no right…" she began in a breathless voice, then stopped to swallow. "I will not be manhandled in that fashion for the whole world to see. I will not!"

Manhandled? Her accusation almost made him laugh. Had she forgotten how willing she was only moments before? Had they been alone…the thought nearly made him shudder, but he retained control as he replied firmly, "Not the whole world. But if they can see, they can hear as well. You have made a place in my heart where I thought there was no room for anything else. You have made flowers grow where I cultivated dust and stones." The words he chose should have surprised him, or at least troubled him, but every one was true. She deserved the truth. She had declared her love for him in her way, this was his. "Remember this, on this journey you insist on making. If you die, I will not survive you long."

It was as if someone had dumped a barrel of icy water over her head, and her shock brought a smile to his lips. It seemed she had a habit of making him smile. "And remember also, I am not always so easily commanded, even with letters from the Amyrlin." That point was proven, he thought, demonstrated again by the fact that she appeared barely able to keep her knees from buckling under her. And it seemed he had found an effective way to battle her stubbornness. "As you command," he murmured dryly, making an elegant bow, "so do I obey." Before Nynaeve had a chance to respond, he was gone.

Once he had made it a fair distance from her room, he stopped and leaned against the wall. His anger had subsided, leaving only concern in its wake. He meant what he had told her—he would not let her go to Tanchico without proper protection, regardless of what she, the Amyrlin or Moiraine said. No, if he could not be there to protect her, he would see to it that someone else, someone capable, would.

* * *

As soon as the dark-haired man on the other side of the door began to ease it open, Lan pushed through and entered the house. The appalled look on the man's face did not deter him in the least; Lan had no intention of bandying words; there was no choice. For either of them. "My name is Lan Mandragoran, and I have a job for you," he announced, tossing a large silken bag of gold coins on the table that sat in the middle of the room.

"I don't—"

Lan ended the man's objection with no more than a look. "If there is something you need to pack, do it now. I cannot tell you how long you will be gone, but were I you I would prepare for a long journey."

The man blinked. "You're insane! You can't just barge into my house and…" The sound of a steel blade being eased from its scabbard was enough to make his words fade, but as his gaze drifted to the sword he moved quickly—most likely to reach for his own weapon. Lan, however, was quicker.

Grabbing a handful of the man's unlaced shirt, Lan shoved him against the wall. "That bag of gold on the table is more than you could hope to earn in your next five jobs." Truthfully, it was more than the man could hope to earn in a year. "Don't be a fool, man. Take the gold, pack your things, and I will explain the job as you do." Had the man not nodded, Lan was prepared to forcefully drag him to the docks of Tear. He had been assured _Wavedancer_ would not set sail until he returned, but even al'Thor could only do so much to delay the Sea Folk.

"Juilin, I…" Lan turned to see a freshly dressed woman enter, her eyes suddenly wide with fear. "What's…I…"

"Your friend is going on a journey," he told the woman coldly, stepping away from Sandar. "You should leave." She hesitated, at least until she saw the look in his eyes. With a muffled cry, she grabbed a bag from the plush chair to her side and rushed out of the house.

"Blood and ashes, do you have any idea how long it took me to get anywhere with her? I—"

Another deadly look stopped the man's tirade. "Your romantic entanglements do not concern me. Now pack." As the man grabbed a small satchel and tied it snugly closed, Lan explained the job. He had to stifle the urge to chuckle when Sandar paled at the mention of Nynaeve's name—she had apparently made quite an impression—but continued explaining the assignment. What he knew of it, anyway. There were, admittedly, parts to this job even Lan did not know, such as how long it would take, and another he had no intention of sharing. He still could not believe Nynaeve and Elayne were hunting the Black Ajah. Alone! The Amyrlin had apparently lost her mind, sending two Accepted after Darkfriends. Channelers, no less! Nynaeve could not channel so much as a spark without being angry; how could she fight the Black Ajah? The thought of it had his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.

"I'm almost done," Sandar said defensively. It was obvious he thought Lan's anger was directed at him, which was enough incentive to make him move even faster. The man was capable, Lan was certain of that. And though he had played a part in Nynaeve and the other two girls' capture, he _had_ helped to rescue them.

The sound of his heart pounding suddenly echoed in his ears, warning him of the fury he barely managed to contain. Nynaeve had been captured by the same two Darkfriends she had put to question. Light! How could Nynaeve keep that from him? How could _Moiraine_? He had half a mind to go after Nynaeve anyway and confront her about her habit of hiding the truth. If there was more time, then maybe…

"I'm ready."

Lan nodded coldly at Sandar and closed the distance between them, drawing his sword as he did so. "You are being paid well," he said, "as you can see. But understand one thing…if you fail in this task"—his gaze narrowed as he slid the point of his sword up to the man's chest—"there is nowhere you can hide where I will not find you, not even the Blight itself. When I do find you, I will make you curse the day your father was born. And when I am finished with you, my friend will have a turn."

Gulping, the man nodded. "The job must be very important to you."

"Important?" Nynaeve's face flashed across his vision, her lips swollen and cheeks flushed from his kiss. That invisible fist tightened around his heart again, though his expression belied nothing. _I love you, Lan Mandragoran._ He swallowed hard and nodded again. "My very life depends on it." He paused only a moment, his gaze darkening. "And so does yours. Now let's go."

* * *

_Well guys, that's it! Many thanks to Neela for beta reading the story for me, and many thanks to all of you who took time to review it. :-)_

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